


oh you, voyager of dreams

by Randy_sensei, SunPraiser31



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pricefield Week 2019, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randy_sensei/pseuds/Randy_sensei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunPraiser31/pseuds/SunPraiser31
Summary: Time is a cruel thief to rob us of our former selves. We lose as much to life as we do to death.Max Caulfield and Chloe Price are souls tied by destiny itself, whatever that could possibly mean, even for the better, or for the worse.--Collaborative ficlet collection for Pricefield Week, where we each take one of the day's two prompts. Each chapter is a completely self contained story, so they can be read in any order. Features both angst and fluff in equal measure.





	1. Day One: Time

**Author's Note:**

> Pricefield week is upon us! Time/Support are the prompts for day one. Sun and I plan on doing both. If you don't know him, [SunPraiser31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunpraiser31) has written some bitchin' fics for this fandom, despite being new. Give him a chance.

Gentle winds carry sunset rays delicately through the rustling evergreen branches. The calming sound of the water hitting what rocks lie underneath the ever stoic lighthouse fills the air and mingles, creating a cacophony of calm. 

Max has seen this view many, many times. It never got boring to her as she aimed her polaroid camera and clicked the button with which she encased a moment in time, a beautiful view aimed at with her viewfinder. She sighs, shaking the outcome slightly (even if she knows that could damage the polaroid) and places it next to her on the bench, right next to her camera.

Her stare flickers from ten to a hundred yards, staring either at the waves below, or at the rocks and trees encasing Arcadia Bay sleepily. In the calming and soothing atmosphere she thinks. She thinks, and her brain is working, yet its all foggy. Unclear. She thinks of something but nothing at the same time. Max is effectively zoning out without zoning out. She still feels the air on her skin and still sees in front of her, but she registers none of it.

She also happens to see the hand waving in front of her face, but it still takes her a second to respond.

“Hey, Maximus,” greets a familiar voice, low and relaxed, quite alien from the usual energetic approach. “You’re zoning out on me hard, man. Did- did I get you high off of second-hand smoke?”

To this, Max laughs, something small and distant, as she’s still coming back to the world of the living.

“No, silly,” she says, glancing towards the voice, “I’m just… thinking.”

In front of her is a girl. Beanie, blue hair, cigarette, dirty leather jacket. There’s a smirk where the cigarette sits and Max’s eyes find themselves oddly drawn to it. The girl is sitting back on the bench, an arm extended around Max’s back across the back of it, one leg perched atop the other.

“Hopefully not about Blackhell. I have you for the whole weekend, now.”

“Yeah, just something… dumb. Don’t worry.”

Past the wind blowing the smoke in the direction of the lighthouse, nothing but what noise the girl makes fills the space between the two friends. Calm, serene, is the picture. Max looks back to her polaroid, taking it daintily with one hand, just idly looking it over. On the backside of it there’s a word that is very evidently in her own handwriting, but she doesn’t remember ever putting it there.

‘Perfect,’ it says. Nothing more, nothing less.

Max wishes she could have had this moment for longer, but then, she figures, it wouldn’t be a moment. She scoffs a little, internally, when it brings her back to some time in the past. She gazes at the neon whale still glaring up at them from the shore, and figures they could stop by later. The normality and simplicity of it all leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the girl asks, holding out a quarter to her friend. A smile grows on Max’s face as she takes it and looks back up to her companion, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I’m just… thinking about life.”

The cocky smirk is replaced with a look of care and masked concern as Max looks down at the grass between their feet.

“Hopefully not a life without me,” she says, and there’s an unspoken bout of… sensitivity in it. Something this girl is not known for. Max looks up at her again, something akin to boundless love behind her stare as it bores into pale skin, which is when the tears start to flow.

“Whoa, Max, hey,” the other girl says, extending a hand to stop them from coming, “what’s wrong?”

“That’s just the thing,” Max says, giving her grief ample time to manifest, “nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are you crying?”

The sobs in the air hang. Each one takes its damn time as Max cries. But in between the pain-wracked sobs, she manages something.

“Because... you’re not real.”

In a mock attempt at debunking an absurd claim, the girl opposite Max stutters. But soon, she stops and just… sighs.

“We would have had more time, Max.”

Max shakes her head, tears still flowing freely. “It would only make me miss you more. I’m sorry.” She turns away, unable to keep looking, and opts to stare into the ground, letting the tears cloud her vision as they fall.

“Hey,” Chloe coos, turning Max towards her from where she was slumped with her elbows on her knees. She places one pale hand on Max’s cheek and holds her there, a sky blue staring into an ocean blue. Touching their foreheads together, Max watches a girl fade.

One butterfly flutters from behind her, followed by another. The two stay there, just looking, staring. Max is hellbent on never forgetting those eyes even as her own vision fades with tears, running heavy now with no signs of stopping. She watches a girl fade, but not from existence, as she has for the many of Arcadia Bay’s residents, but into butterflies.

She watches the girl that gave her life for a town she hated fade, and thinks of her not as a girl, but as her world. Her life. It leaves her not with a hole in her memory and a grave upon which to cry, but with a hole in her very existence, and a reason to cry anywhere, once she realizes that there’s no one at her side.

Blue morpho follows blue, one after another they dot the sunsetting sky in an attempt to bring Max’s soul peace, yet all it does is perturb her more.

“I’m sorry, Max,” the girl echoes, “It's not your fault,” she lies.

Max tries to hold her hand in place, but its all for naught. It fades just like the rest of her, and Max is left chiseled in place, a stream of tears carving their way across her freckled face.

She remembers her eyes, as sorrowful as the due process might be. She etches the feeling of her hand on her face into memory, as much as it might hurt. She takes the fleeting taste of her lips and remembers it, for as long as it might stay there.

She watches a girl fade, but she thinks of her not as a girl, but as her whole world. 

They say that time alone heals all wounds, but what’s left of the soul of Max Caulfield, the girl who could bend time once, would very much disagree. 


	2. Day One: Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm Sun, and I'll be taking the second of each day's prompts! If you just got done having your soul ripped out by [Randy-sensei's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randy_sensei/pseuds/Randy_sensei) excellent angst, have no fear! I come with fluff to soothe your shipper's heart. That will be a running theme throughout this week: Randy smacks you with the angst, and I heal you with the fluff! And thus, we become perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
> 
> Well, okay, this one turned out to be more hurt/comfort than outright fluff, but it's more on the comfort side than the hurt! Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Max had hoped that she’d get accustomed to receiving rejection letters. She’d gotten dozens of them by now. Surely she’d grow numb to it at some point. Right? 

Wrong. This latest one still made her want to cry. 

_ ...while your works obviously display a large degree of talent, we regret to inform you that you have not been selected... did not fit the theme of the collection... wish you all the best... _

They all sounded like that, trying to let her down easy. Praising the quality of her photography while refusing to accept it. Damn it all, why couldn’t they just outright _ say _ that she sucked? At least then she’d know she needed to improve in some aspect or another. All she could get out of this was “There’s literally nothing you could do to make us accept you, why do you even bother?” 

Each letter made it harder to have hope. No one ever had anything bad to say about her photos. _ So why wasn’t she getting accepted? _

Chloe found her like that, sitting on the couch in the small apartment they shared, staring at the letter and trying not to cry. Immediately she stopped whatever she was doing and sat next to Max, pulling her into a gentle hug without a word. Max let the letter fall to the floor and snuggled into Chloe’s arms, a few tears finally slipping free. 

Chloe loved Max’s work, but she wasn’t exactly a photography expert. She couldn’t know the real reasons for Max’s rejections, and calling the latest rejectors rude names wouldn’t help. There wasn’t really anything Chloe could say to make Max feel better. Nothing that she hadn’t already said a thousand times already, at least. 

Chloe knew this, and so she didn’t try. She didn’t say a word for several long minutes. She just held Max close and let her cry without judgement. She stroked Max’s hair and scratched at the spot on her back she liked. Even though Max could hear Chloe’s stomach rumbling, she never made a motion to stand or let go of Max. 

Where words failed, Chloe’s touch worked wonders. Max’s tears faded into sniffles, and then those faded too. It was impossible to stay sad about anything for long in Chloe’s arms. Yeah, she was still bummed about the rejection and feeling down on her photos, but... it all just seemed to slide into the background. Instead her mind focused on the soft, possessive way Chloe held her. The faint smell of smoke, oil and body wash that was uniquely Chloe. The soft rhythm of her breathing, the steady beating of her heart. The tension bled out of Max’s body, and she gave a long sigh. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking one of Chloe’s hands. 

“Always, Max,” Chloe whispered back, squeezing her hand. 

Max bit her lip. She’d tried not to lay her baggage regarding this at Chloe’s feet. Chloe had her own problems to worry about. Now, however, she couldn’t help herself. “Do... Do you think I should...?” 

“Are you going to say _ 'Try again?’ _If so, the answer is yes.” 

So quick with that reply, even with Max leeching off what money she made from her mechanic job. “I... I hate that I make so little money for us, I feel like I’m dead weight to you.” 

“You’re not,” Chloe said, giving her a squeeze. “You’re worth all the money in the world, Max. Besides, we get by just fine. And we’ll get by even better once you do get that yes.” 

“But... so many times... What if I never...?” 

“Maybe you won’t,” Chloe admitted. “But you haven’t tried anywhere near enough to know for sure.” 

Max raised an eyebrow. “And how much is enough?” 

“When you’ve shoved your photos in the face of every single gallery, publication, and breathing person on the planet, at least six times.” 

Max snorted. “That’s a lot of rejections.” 

“And a lot of yeses.” Chloe shifted, pulling Max up so she could look her in the eyes. “Max, this has been your dream since I met you. I know how badly you want this, and I’m fully ready to support you until you get it. But you have to keep trying. If you stop... that’s when the dream dies. So you keep trying until there’s nowhere left to try, and then keep trying after that. I’m here for you when you need me.” 

Such conviction in her voice, such fire in her eyes as she said it. She had that look on her face like all those times she’d gotten them into trouble, that look that said her mind was made and she wouldn’t take no for answer. That determined expression framed by locks of blue, focused on Max and nothing else... What had she done to deserve such faith? 

“I... I’ll keep trying,” Max managed. 

“Promise me,” Chloe said, holding up her pinky. 

Max chuckled, wrapping her pinky around Chloe’s and shaking. “I promise.” 

Chloe smiled at her. Max couldn’t help smiling back. She suddenly became very aware of how close their faces were. She could feel Chloe’s breath on her skin. Her cheeks started heating up, and her heart started racing. So long they’d been together, and Chloe still had that effect on her. 

She couldn’t help leaning forward. Chloe was eager to meet her. They kissed softly, deeply. It wasn’t a touch of burning desire or need, but a warm one of affection. Max lived for moments like these, where she could feel Chloe’s adoration through her lips, where she could show the same through hers. All her lingering doubts and insecurities seemed to melt away. If someone loved her and believed in her this much, how could Max doubt it? 

Chloe’s stomach chose that moment to give a particularly loud rumble, which made Max pull away and laugh. “Seems you’ve kissed up an appetite.” 

“Well, what can I say?” Chloe said with a smirk. “Kissing you always makes me ready to eat something.” 

Max punched her in the shoulder, blushing furiously. Chloe just laughed and stood, pulling Max up with her. “Lunch at the diner?” 

“Please,” Max said, her own stomach rumbling. “I need me some waffles.” 

“Never understood how you can eat those. They don’t even come close to Two Whales.” 

“Yeah, well, if I waited for waffles as good as Two Whales, I’d never get to eat waffles again.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell Mom you said that.” 

“Please do! More brownie points for out next visit!” 

They talked and bantered and laughed on their way out the door, the rejection letter forgotten on the floor. There would be more, for sure. No doubt they’d each bring back that gnawing doubt, that insecurity, that feeling of uselessness. But Max would get through it. She’d take each and every one until she finally got that yes. 

With Chloe to support her, Max could get through anything. 


	3. Day Two: Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PAYDAY!Pricefield! a.k.a Criminal!AU with more characters. Hope you enjoy, this was a bitch to get down @_@

Max startled awake with a harsh breath of familiar air and a painful spike through her lower abdomen. 

“Whoa, bird, down,” she hears an equally familiar voice with an equally familiar Australian drawl warn before feeling a hand at her chest pushing her down slowly. 

“What–” Max asks, before coughing, flaring the pain all over again, “What… happened?” 

“You got shot, s’what happened,” explains Sydney. Max blinks up at the ever familiar ceiling of their safehouse and takes in the information, wondering how it might have happened and– oh god, what Chloe must be thinking. She tries to get up again, much to her own chagrin, after seemingly forgetting that she’s been _shot_, and then proceeds to be stopped both by her own pain and Sydney’s arm coming to stop her. 

“What part of you got shot don’t you understand?” she chides, “Stay still and rest. Your girlfriend is just fine, and so are you, unless you mess up the stitches and get it bleedin’ again.” 

Those exact words are exactly what she needed to hear. She relaxes against the couch again, willing to let it heal even for just a little, maybe even slip into a nice sleep. 

“Did everything go okay?” she asks Sydney, one eye open. 

“Yeah, went decent, apart from you gettin’ your spleen shot out.” When she sees Max blanche, she laughs, waving the poorly timed joke away. “Relax, love, your spleen is just fine, I was just kiddin’ about.” 

Knowing things went alright, Max decides to get back to relaxing, maybe even get some more sleep in. Past shut eyelids, she hears Sydney shuffle about some more, then leave the room, leaving Max to her own thoughts, left to think about what she remembers. 

She remembers their plan, First World Bank, with a simple idea. Go in, grab the thermite stashed by the insider, take control of the situation and drill into the vault’s foreroom, thermite into the vault itself, bag the cash and get the hell out. Sounded simple enough, true, but a bit of poor judgement combined with bad and unlucky timing ended in Max getting shot. 

Remembering, she’s reminded that she blanked when she was shot, too. Max sighs, remembering Chloe with her gloves stained with blood, crouched over her barely breathing body, returning fire to the endless amount of cops on their tail. Max sighs. 

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” she whispers into the night.   
“You damn well should be. I nervous-smoked through my last few packs for you. You scared me so bad.” 

Max ends up startled again as the shaky voice of her lover responds. Past the pain that shoots when she jumps up again she leans to look at Chloe, and swears she’s only seen her like this when what happened to Rachel happened, leaving Max to feel like the worst person on Earth. 

When she moves to get to Chloe, pain included, she’s stopped by Chloe, but she’s not there to bar her movement like Sydney was, but instead to hug her with an astounding force. 

“Christ, Caulfield,” she replies, sniffling, “you had me so fucking worried. Don't do that shit again.” 

Reciprocating the hug, Max can feel her eyes get wet, but does nothing to stop it. She can’t imagine the fear and terror Chloe felt when it happened. Instead, she does the next best thing, and gives her a shoulder to cry on, and just repeats “I’m sorry” like a mantra. 

“You never should have done something that fucking stupid, Max,” Chloe breaks the sound of sniffling and crying with that, voice going from the sad tone she had previously, to something with a lot more edge and toughness, but a lot more care in it, too. 

“I know,” Max says, “I’m sorry,” she repeats. She figures that what’s done is done, but hopes never to pull something like that again. Chloe moves, then, from her shoulder, to holding Max’s head in both hands. The pose she’s in, the way she’s twisted hurts a little and maybe will fuck with the stitches, but it's worth it. Chloe holds her head gently there, looking into her eyes. 

“Were supposed to be partners, remember?” she sniffles, almost starting to cry again, “Once in time, now in crime, right?” 

Max is thrown through a loop back in time, to when they had both last used that sentence. A promise they made in a shitty Downtown apartment never to give up on one another and not to lose their humanity just simply trying to get by after all had failed for them. Sure, this wasn’t a path they’d have seen each other go down, but a few years later and after everything, they can’t say they regret their decision. 

There’s nothing to be said, once Chloe kisses Max like it's their last. Tears mix but don’t ruin the bitter-sweet taste of what they share. 


	4. Day Two: Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some proper fluff this time! Nothing but good feelings to be found here! Enjoy the happy, dorky couple!

Chloe was busy unpacking one of her boxes – _ finally, _as Max kept saying – when she stumbled upon the dusty old pirate hat. 

“Oh god damn,” she said to herself with a smirk, working to pull it free from under the random clothes and crap it’s buried under. She brushed off some of the dust and cobwebs, running a hand over the faded jolly roger on the front. “It’s been a _ long _time, old friend.” 

She hadn’t packed this while preparing to move; no, it had been in this box for _ years. _She vaguely remembers a bad morning long ago, depressed and raging about Max’s absence, when she’d ripped it off her mirror, thrown it in a box and tried to get herself to take it out for trash day. But all she’d managed was to push it to the back of her closet and try to forget about it. Looking at it always brought back so many memories. In the wake of Max’s departure, those memories had become painful. 

But now Max was back, had been back for months. She was Chloe’s _ girlfriend. _ They were _ living together _for fuck’s sake. All those old memories had regained their color, and then some. 

They’d first bonded as children over their love for pirates. They’d spent more hours than were humanly countable playing pirates in Chloe’s backyard, in Max’s room, at the lighthouse, at basically everywhere in Arcadia Bay that wasn’t locked up, and even a few places that were. They’d drawn many a comic about the adventures of Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver, the terrors of the seven seas. They’d finally saved up enough of their allowances for proper costumes. 

Chloe fondly remembered the day she bought this hat. It had fit her perfectly, but it kept sliding down Max’s head and covering her eyes. Chloe had bought it immediately just for that alone. So many times, she’d pranked Max by sneaking up behind her and planting the hat over her head. Max had always preferred a bandana over a hat, probably because of that. Chloe hadn’t minded. Max in a bandana was hella cute. 

Then again, Max in general was hella cute. 

Thinking about Max drew Chloe’s attention to the clinking from the kitchen, where Max was humming softly as she washed dishes. It still got Chloe’s heart thumping erratically to think about sharing an apartment with her, even though they’d already been there for three weeks. It still didn’t feel _ real _ to her. The girl she’d once played pirates with, the girl she adored, was _ hers? _Chloe Price never got that lucky, even if Captain Bluebeard always had. 

_ Hmm... Perhaps it’s time for Captain Bluebeard to make a comeback... _

Chloe grinned and slipped the hat onto her head. Even after all these years, it still fit her like a glove. It smelled a bit musty – she'd probably have to wash her hair later – but just wearing it made her feel like a tween again. She stood from the still-mostly-unpacked box and crept towards the kitchen, putting her skills as Blackwell’s ex-ninja to work. 

Max had her back turned, focused intently on the dishes and her humming. It was too easy for Chloe to sneak up behind her. She waited until Max set the plate down that she’d finished drying, then grabbed her in a tight embrace, pinning her arms to her side. She yelped in surprise. 

_ “ _ _ Arrrrr _ _ !” _Chloe thundered in her most outrageous pirate accent. “Ye be the prisoner of Captain Bluebeard now, lassie!” 

“You asshole,” Max said, her breath heavy from Chloe’s jump scare. She wasn’t actually mad; she was far too used to Chloe sneaking up on her for that. “One of these days I might deck you without thinking!” 

“The only deckin’ ye be worrying about now is the poop deck! Get to swabbin’!” 

“I’ve been _ swabbin _ _ ’ _ these dishes, while you’re _ still _unpacking your...” Max’s sentence trailed off as she turned her head and caught a glimpse of Chloe from the corner of her eye. Chloe slackened her grip enough for Max to turn all the way around. Her eyes widened at the old hat. “Where did you find that? I thought it was gone!” 

“Askin’ yer captor where she keeps her clothes? I oughtta make ye walk the plank fer that!” Chloe’s ridiculous pirate voice was convincingly angry, but she wore the biggest smile on her face. 

Max’s own lips curled into her radiant smile that always set Chloe’s heart to tap dancing. “Ah, Captain Bluebeard. It’s been many years. I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me... but I’m no simple _ lassie. _" 

“Oh? What be ye then, scallywag?” 

Max twisted out of Chloe’s arms. Chloe let her go without a struggle. Max grabbed one of the unused towels from the countertop and swiftly tied it over head like a bandana. When she spun back around, she had her right eye tightly closed and a paper towel tube in her hand. 

“_ Gasp! _My archrival, Long Max Silver!” Chloe lunged for the counter and snagged a clean spatula, holding it in front of her like a sword. 

“I’ve been waiting for this, matey,” Max said in her own horrific pirate accent, twirling the cardboard tube in her hand. “After today, _ I’ll _be the terror of the seven seas!” 

“Nay, landlubber! It is I who shall lay claim to your booty!” Chloe added a wink at the end. 

Predictably, Max blushed, which was the cutest thing in the entire universe. Her voice was still steady – and piratey – when she lunged forward and struck Chloe’s spatula with her tube. “Then have at thee, knave!” 

They lunged and slapped at each other with their makeshift weapons, giving the most overly dramatic shouts and _ " _ _ Yarrrrrr” _s with every attack. They both wore the largest of smiles the entire time. Chloe in particular was filled with a nostalgic glow that made the whole world seem a little bit brighter, a bit more wonderous and filled with adventure, just like when they were kids. 

Max always had that effect on her. Together, Chloe felt like anything and everything was possible. Like everything else could slow down and take a backseat while they play-fought like idiots in their kitchen. Five long and dark years she’d gone without that, and she’d almost stopped believing the world was worth living in. Now that she had it back, she’d never take it for granted again. 

“Just as fierce as last we fought!” Chloe laughed with a lunge for Max’s leg. 

“Aye!” Max said, a strange gleam in her eye as she deflected Chloe’s strike. “But I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve!” 

“Oh? Like what?” 

“Command over the seven seas themselves!” With that, Max reached for the sink. Before Chloe could react, she’d dipped her hand in the soapy water and thrown a large clump of bubbles at Chloe. 

Chloe scrambled back a few steps as the bubbles coated her hat and part of her face. After the brief moment of shock passed, she laughed and went for the sink herself. “Two can play at that game!” 

It devolved quickly into a game of splashing each other with the soapy suds while trying to contain their amusement. Chloe ripped Max’s towel bandana off so she could rub bubbles in Max’s hair. Max’s paper towel tube quickly became so wet that it went limp and flimsy. This continued until the sink had been cleared of the biggest bubble patches, by which point Max and Chloe were holding each other and leaning against the counter to avoid falling over from the force of their laughter. 

“Arrr,” Chloe managed weakly as she tried to catch her breath between laughs. “Another draw!” 

“Aye,” Max agreed, giggling profusely, “until our next meeting!” 

Their laughter faded slowly over many minutes. Even once it petered out, they continued to hold each other, smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes. The tender way Max held her made Chloe’s heart ache. You’d think she’d have gotten used to being this close by now. Chloe didn’t think she ever would. 

“I always thought you looked cute in that hat,” Max said quietly, her eyes leaving Chloe’s for the briefest of moments to flick up to the hat on Chloe’s head. 

“Bitch, I’m always cute,” Chloe said with a smirk. 

Max giggled. “That you are, Captain.” 

Neither of them had to think about leaning forward to kiss the other. At this point, it was instinctive. And yet, just like Max’s embrace, Chloe can’t ever get used to it, can’t ever get enough of it. To her, Max is worth more than any amount of buried treasure ever could be. 

When they finally separate, Chloe grinned and started sliding one of her hands down Max’s back. “So, about that booty...” 

Max rolled her eyes, but can’t contain her smile. “Help me finish these dishes, and maybe you’ll find some, scallywag.” 

“A small price to pay for the greatest treasure in all the world!” Max punched her, but she’s still smiling. 

Truth be told, Chloe would have helped even without that. She loathed doing chores, dishes most of all. But she was determined to pull her own weight for once in her life. She would be the type of girlfriend worth living with. 

Besides, if it was with Max, her shipmate in piracy, it couldn’t possibly be boring. 


	5. Day Three: Always

Figuring it was time for a change of scenery for once, Max decides to take a walk through the junkyard.

It's a dim rest of the day in front of her and the sun is setting just behind her somewhere. For a good while, she spends her time walking around, enjoying nature and its sounds, not thinking at all, even snapping a few pictures here and there, ones to go into the journal for cataloging more than for safe keeping.

See, Max hadn’t made any particular plans when she came to this timeline. She figured she would just… relax… in one. Take her time. Collect her thoughts and write them down neatly. This is, by now, her second journal, the other one stashed away in her bag safely, almost flooding over with notes.

Though, there is nothing intrinsically interesting about a junkyard, especially one Max hadn’t been to just yet, at least in this timeline. But, she’s not there for what’s now, rather what’s about to come.

After having her way with around thirty-odd timelines, Max has managed to figure out a way to save both Chloe and the Bay, but not without cost. All the other steps she needed to complete were set and in place, leaving her to just… sit there and wait. She found a perch atop a rusted car’s hood, one she remembers from so long ago. She drags her fingers across the rusted metal and feels, really feels what she felt then, in a timeline scratched over and rewritten again and again.

It was then she knew what she felt, true, but the more Max dove into the timelines she made, the more she realized it never could be how she wanted it to be, deep down. Instead, it had to transpire like this.

Just in time to the sound of a truck’s engine turning off, Max shuts her journal, dutifully keeping her eyes pointed at the ground in front of her, waiting for the patter of boots against ground to come to a stop, her heart thumping rhythmically with the sound of it all. Max leans forward, hanging her head, placing her elbows on her knees and gives the back of her head a scratch as it all sets into motion.

The last piece of the puzzle.

“Max _ fucking _ Caulfield,” the ever familiar voice started, “look who decided to grow the nuts.”

Sighing wistfully, Max looks up, a tired expression keeping her eyelids deadpan, “Hi, Chloe. Long time no see.”

Chloe, much to Max’s rather expected chagrin scoffs. “_ Long time no see _ ? Yeah, you’re right. Five fucking years is a _ very _ long time no see. Five years without a fucking call and you have the balls to show up here, out of nowhere, and fucking, do what? Show me you’ve stalked me? Tell me you– you found someone better? To sit around and go back to being buddy-buddy a-fucking-gain?”

This never got any easier, Max realizes, giving her eyebrow a scratch, “Yeah well fucking think again, Max. You come here and you don’t even have the fucking courage to talk back and explain yourself.” The verbal barrage goes on. Max lets Chloe let any bottled emotions go. After all, there’s five years worth of those, not to mention the two months Chloe had known Max was in Arcadia.

Max just shrugs. This was certainly not the reaction Chloe was expecting because she cuts her next words right off, just as Max had expected. “You know what? I’m not even going to grace you with the time, fuck this. I’m leaving. You can have this place for yourself. Come talk to me sometime when you stop being a pussy.”

To the telltale sounds of Chloe leaving that she’d come to know in the past few timelines, Max tries not to cry. It never got any easier or any harder to hold it all in, especially considering the fact that if Max cries while Chloe is around, the whole plan is ruined. Max lets the air around her hang dirty with the emotions of a girl scorned by life itself and somewhere along the lines thinks that there might be another way.

There might be, but knowing what comes of any other decisions in the grand scheme of things, Max would just…

Go the safe route. Always. No matter how hard it is. She hops off of the rusted hood, letting a tear loose. There’s more than just her heart on the line, in the thick of it all. A whole town rests atop Max’s shoulders and sometimes, she feels the full weight of it.

She just hopes that maybe one day Chloe can find it in herself to forgive her, hoping she wouldn’t have to break her promise.

* * *

Chloe had never seen such bullshittery. 

What turned from a relaxing day of no step-dick and just blazing it up at the junkyard turned into the metaphorical valve on Chloe’s emotions getting fucking spun open like the pressure just ramped due to unforeseen circumstances.

The unforeseen fucking circumstance being the last thing she’d expected: Max Caulfield. Just sitting there, looking at her with her doe eyes.

To think she had the right to stomp around sacred ground and just _ walk _ into the junkyard like she owns the damn place, jesus. Chloe hasn’t been this mad since she ate shit at the pipe the other day. Fuck. Chloe thanks the higher powers that the house is fucking empty. Empty like her soul, no one there to hear the _ sobbing _ Max just brought forth. No one there to hear the door slam the fuck shut, no one to hear the way she rages at something completely undeserving and no one to hear the lighter spark up with the emergency blunt she had for emergency occasions.

Fuck.

With the room a mess around her, it takes her a bit to piece it all together. Despite not expecting Max at all there, part of her had been… relieved. To know that Max hadn’t forgotten about her, or left her here to rot or just didn’t care to reconnect. She tried, then, Chloe realizes, and realizes that she also might have fucked it all up.

The dregs of her blunt are extinguished as she moves to either go get another one or drive her truck off a cliff, thinking she’ll decide on the way, but a rectangle stops her fury in place. Not just any rectangle, a paper-white one. A note, Chloe’s high genius brain decides, when she flips it over to view the dainty hand-writing of someone she once called a crush detail exactly what went down in excruciating detail.

How sorry she is, how she wishes there was another way. How she won’t see her again, how she can… control time apparently? Something that’s not the weed makes Chloe believe her, if for nothing, then just for the sake of this letter; the same letter she uses to describe thirty eight timelines she had jumped through to make it all work, how, back when it all started, Chloe died or Arcadia Bay died. How Max refused to take that as the truth.

Chloe drags her shaking hands daintily across the wet spots covering the entire letter, all three fucking pages of it, Christ, and thinks about how much of this is true. To think that… Max _ fucking _ Caulfield, would give– _ do _ all of this, just for her, even if half of this could be believed…

Christ. Max fucking Caulfield. Chloe thinks back to her in that junkyard. Just sitting there, looking at Chloe with her doe eyes. Doe eyes that had seen far too fucking much. She thinks of how she’ll never see her again, as the letter entails, and promptly contemplates the bullshit behind that statement as she guns it for her fucking phone, in hopes of changing _ something. _ Somehow.

As the letter falls and as Chloe books it for that fucking lighthouse, the last line of the letter repeats in her head on a loop. 

_ I’ll always love you, Chloe Price. In any timeline. Always. _


	6. Day Three: Style

Max’s style changes start out so small that Chloe barely notices.

“Hey,” she says suddenly as they’re walking out of Two Whales, taking hold of Max’s wrist. “Since when do you wear a  Firewalk bracelet?”

Max blushes and pointedly looks at the ground in that adorably awkward way of hers. “Um... since I started listening to them with you, I guess? They’re pretty cool...”

Chloe grins broadly, glad to hear that she was rubbing off on Max (heh) in positive ways. “Damn right they are! I’ll have to get you one of their albums when we next hit the music shop!”

It’s not until a few weeks later, as they’re lazing about Max’s dorm – Max doing homework, Chloe dicking around on the internet – that Chloe notices something odd in Max’s closet. Pulling herself away from her memes (with admittedly some struggle) Chloe walks over and pulls out a black shirt with a familiar red design on it.

“Excuse me?” she says loudly, drawing Max’s attention away from her homework. Her eyes go wide and her cheeks go red as she sees the shirt Chloe is holding. “Do my eyes deceive me? Does Max Caulfield own a fucking  _ anarchy _ shirt?”

“Y-Yeah, so what?” Max says, huffing and turning back to her homework.

Chloe laughs, perturbed though she is. “I’m proud of you,  Maxipad ! We’ll make a punk out of you yet, even if it a hipster punk!”

Max grunts some insult or another at her. Chloe smiles at the shirt, though deep down she feels a twinge of doubt. This didn’t really fit Max at all. It’s jarring later in the night, when Chloe comes back around to pick Max up for dinner and finds Max  _ wearing  _ the shirt, along with the Firewalk bracelet. Sure, it’s cute as hell, but Chloe can’t help feeling unsettled by it.

It’s even more jarring when, not two days later, she arrives at Max’s dorm to find her wearing a tee for a punk rock band that Chloe likes, a black jacket over that, and a bullet necklace of her own. She smiles at the surprise on Chloe’s face and strikes a pose.

“Am I ready for the mosh pit now,  shaka brah?” she says in her best impression of Chloe.

Chloe laughs, trying to hide the unease stirring in her gut. “Yeah... not so much. Maybe start out with some light headbanging first, see how that treats you.”

She feels conflicted, because god _damn _this punk look for Max was _hot, _but... it wasn’t _her. _All this time she’d spent trying to corrupt Max, and now that it seemed to be happening... She tries to shake it off. Maybe it’s just a passing whim or something.

That notion fades the very next day, when she walks in on Max, clad in a different band tee and torn up jeans, holding several cans of what Chloe immediately recognizes as hair dye.

“Max...” Chloe starts, eyeing the cans with wide eyes. Max’s hair is still brown, thankfully – she seemed to be in the middle of reading the directions for how to apply it.

“H-Hey,  Chlo ,” Max says with a nervous smile. “I was just thinking, maybe, it might be time for a bit of a color change, you know? What do you think of this shade?”

She hands Chloe one of the cans. She’s honestly surprised to find that it’s a shade of pink.  _ That  _ much at least was classic Max. And this shade  _ would  _ look  hella good on her, but...

Chloe sets the can down and sits next to Max on her bed. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Of course, what’s up?”

“Max... what’s up with you, lately? Like... your clothing choices, I mean.”

Max frowned. “What do you mean? You dress like this all the time.”

“And you don’t,” Chloe said, turning her whole body to face Max. “What brought this on?”

Max bit her lip and looked away, like she usually did when she was trying to think of an evasive answer. “Maybe I just felt like changing it up a bit.”

“You know I don’t buy that.  I’m all for trying new styles and stuff, but... hair dye? That’s not like you at all. Come on, Max. Talk to me.”

Max is quiet for a long minute. Chloe doesn’t press her any further, but patiently waits for her to gather her thoughts. She knew how to get Max to open up to her, and that was to give her as much time and space as she needed. Though, hopefully it would be in time to stop her from doing something drastic, like dyeing her hair.

“...You’re always saying how out of style I look,” Max says quietly, looking pointedly at the bed. “And you always talk about how cool your look is... so...”

Chloe blinks. “You’re... trying to change to impress me?”

“I... I don’t want you to get bored of me,” Max admits, her bottom lip quivering. “I don’t want you to see another girl dressed like you and think  _ 'Damn, if only Max dressed like that.’ _ I want to be someone you can be proud to be seen with...”

“Max...” Chloe pulls her into a tight hug, feeling profoundly shitty about herself. “I  _ am  _ proud to be seen with you! Everywhere we go I want to show you off and scream from the rooftops that you’re mine!”

“B-But,” Max whispers into Chloe’s chest, curling up tighter against her. “You’re always talking about how cool Rachel looked, and how  _ hipster  _ I look...”

“And I  _ love  _ that about you,” Chloe says, shaking her head as she curses herself. “It's the most adorable thing ever! I love your sappy t-shirts, plain jane hoodies, and your hair, because it’s all  _ you,  _ Max. I like you for  _ who you are,  _ not who I wish you could be. And – god damn it, I’m a really shitty girlfriend if I made you think otherwise.”

Max is quiet for a moment. Then, in the softest of voices, “You... think I’m adorable?”

“Fucking – _ yes!  _ How many times do I tell you that on a regular basis?”

“I always thought you were just saying it to be nice...”

Chloe sighs heavily. “One day, Max Caulfield, I will make you believe that you’re beautiful, and you’re worth it.  Clearly I haven’t been trying hard enough. So, let’s make it clear right now, in no uncertain terms: Max Caulfield is the biggest and dorkiest hipster in the entire universe, but she’s also the most wonderful, adorable, and beautiful person in the entire universe,  _ because of who she is,  _ not because of what she wears.”

Max trembles against her. “...Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, don’t think that means that I want to force you to  _ stay  _ hipster, either. If you really do want to change your style up and dye your hair, I’ll help you. But only if you  _ want  _ to do it, not just because you think  _ I  _ want you to do it. Do  _ you  _ want to do it?”

There’s only a short pause before Max releases the breath she’s been holding. “Not... really...”

“And you know what? I’m  _ perfectly fine  _ with that. You’re still plenty beautiful, Maximus.”

“Thank you, Chloe... I’m sorry...”

“Hey, no need to be sorry. I’m touched that you’d try to change for me, honestly. But please, don’t change something like  _ this  _ just for me. Would you want me to change my style for you?”

Max sits up, puts a hand to her chin and eyes Chloe critically, a smirk forming on her lips. “Well, maybe if we gave you a manbun and some square framed glasses – ”

Chloe laughs and punches Max’s shoulder. “If I ever turn hipster, even for you, it’s time to end me.”

“Well it’s a good thing I love you just how you are.”

Ah. Those three words from Max. Chloe can never keep a tough façade up after hearing them.

“I love you too, Max,” she says softly, leaning in to capture Max’s lips with her own.

The next morning, Max is back in her old Jane Doe t-shirt, her plain blue jeans, and her plain gray hoodie. It’s not much of a style, but it’s Max’s. And to Chloe, that’s better than any punk outfit ever could be. 


	7. Day Four: Photo

Two years have passed from the destruction of Arcadia Bay.   


The wintery view from a Portland apartment grants solace to a girl isolated from the world, for the time being. Two years have passed from the destruction of Arcadia Bay and the grief lies not in the people surrounding the sleeping town, the ones outside of the disaster, but in the people that walked from what was left of it all.   


Vanessa and Ryan Caulfield were kind enough to take in the girl they had watched their daughter grow up with, all of the changes and the ways she was tempered by time included. The first months had been rough; roughest the most on the girl who had made the decision to let Chloe live, against the tides of destiny. She figures they might come sweep her up any time now but two years later, she’s still kicking.   


Getting off track. Anyways.   


The first few months had been rough. Survivor’s guilt, what Chloe’s therapist had called it, wracked both the girls in equal measure, but what Max had seen and couldn’t tell anyone but her, had given her post traumatic stress disorder, which wasn’t really a surprise. The coping-filled months had been rough but somehow the two came out on top.   


Chloe remembers still the tears Max cried when she heard back from Kate, who ended up in a hospital away from Arcadia Bay. From Victoria, who made the smart move and ditched Blackwell in her car, along with her cronies and whoever else she could scoop up. From Alyssa, who she helped down from a dangerous ledge, who later helped out people stuck in the rubble. She remembers how she couldn’t be happier for Max, watching the pain pressing down on her heart slowly lift, and she remembers the way Max showed her exactly how much breathing room her heart had, by spending countless nights wrapped up in each other.   


But not crying, rather enjoying each others company, among other things.   


She takes a puff from the cigarette between her fingers and lets the ash fall from their balcony, into the cold October wind. She holds it in some, the smoke, just to feel the pain in her lungs to remind her she’s still around, then lets it loose.   


She remembers not hearing back from her mother. Only from step-dick, step-fuhrer, step… dad… that Joyce hadn’t made it.   


She remembers how…

Chloe sobs once, hard, her chest hiccuping the breath it was just done drawing. She almost drops her cigarette. She lets the sob go into the wind because she doesn’t particularly care who’s there to hear it.   


Sometimes, though, she doesn’t think about the path that took them to where they are now. Sometimes, she takes a good, hard, longing look at the photo that could have reversed all of this, and ended so much suffering. Though… Chloe thinks back on the times where she had let her mental health get the better of her, when she had betrayed Max and asked her time after time to  _ use _ the fucking photo again and let them all live instead of her, the rotten girl forged that way by a rotten world in which she was left alone, let others have their families and lives worth living.   


It took the heart-wrenching image of Max sobbing her heart out to get Chloe to stop, on the nights when it got really bad. The image alone still haunts her now.   


Chloe also finds herself remembering the odd, rare times, when she’d catch Max with that dorky look on her face when she’s aiming a camera, when she sees Max fawning over an animal, when Max intertwines their fingers together, when Max tells her those sweet words she rarely ever believed back then…   


She thinks that maybe not using the photo was a good thing. Maybe, as horrible as that thought is, sometimes it's good that she was kept alive, if only to witness beauty, much at the cost of the lives of others. She figures it makes her horribly, horribly entitled, thinking that, but…   


She couldn’t care. After everything, she couldn’t care. Max makes it all worth it, in the end.   


October is a time of pain, for the two of them. But it's also a time of healing, as every October from then just frames life in a way that’s plenty more worth living than the last. It's a wonder, how that works, Chloe thinks as she cries. The tears flow freely this time, the sobs few and far between, as the tears fly off of her cheek and into the void beneath. 

Finding Max’s arms around her waist when she stirs from her daze makes Chloe think she’s been speaking of the devil. When she turns around to reciprocate the act, it seems more like she’s been speaking of an angel, because that’s all Max could possibly be to her. 


	8. Day Four: SMS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited about this one! I've always wanted to try one of those texting chapters, and this prompt was perfect for it! Lots of sweetness inside! Enjoy!

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Hey Max 

** Chloe: **Maximus 

** Chloe: **Maximillian 

** Chloe: **Maxaroni and Cheese 

** Chloe: **Maxipad 

** Chloe: **… 

** Chloe: **Maxine 

** Max: **NEVER Maxine!!! 

**Chloe:** Aha, so you are reading these 

** Max: **I told you I had a test to study for tonight! 

** Chloe: **Yeah but would you rather talk to me or study 

** Max: **You know which one I’d RATHER do 

** Max: **But I’d very much like to not fail chemistry 

** Max: **Was there something super important you needed? 

** Chloe: **Yeah 

** Chloe: **I’m bored 

** Max: **It’s a good thing you’re cute 

** Chloe: **No u 

** Max: **Here’s an idea, why don’t you put together a playlist for our drive up to Seattle next weekend 

** Max: **I’ll text you the instant I’m done 

** Chloe: **Pinky promise? 

** Max: **With both pinkies 

** Chloe: **Damn u serious 

** Chloe: **Okay ttyl 

** Max: **Thank you :) 

** Chloe: **NO EMOJI 

[10 minutes later] 

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Max 

** Chloe: **Hey Max 

** Max: **Yes, Chloe? 

** Chloe: **Luv u 

** Max: **Dork 

** Max: **Luv u 2 <3 

** Chloe: **I’ll allow that one 

* * *

** Max: **Hey, weird question 

** Chloe: **Don’t believe whatever they told you 

** Chloe: **I wasn’t even there 

** Max: **Uh 

** Max: **I was just gonna ask if Joyce is willing to share her pot roast recipe 

** Max: **My mom was asking 

** Chloe: **Oh 

** Chloe: **Yeah probably I’ll ask her when I get home 

** Max: **What was that before 

** Chloe: **What before 

** Max: **Chloe what did you do 

** Chloe: **NOTHING THEY CAN PROVE 

* * *

** Chloe: **Look 

** Chloe: **I said I was sorry okay 

** Max: **Yeah but you didn’t actually mean it 

** Max: **I honestly thought I could trust you to stand by me 

** Max: **You humiliated me in there 

** Max: **In front of all our friends 

** Max: **I don’t even think I can look at you anymore 

** Chloe: **LOOK ALL I SAID IS THAT DOOM GUY CAN’T TAKE ILLIDAN IN A STRAIGHT FIGHT 

** Max: **ILLIDAN IS PART DEMON AND LITERALLY ALL DOOM GUY DOES IS KILL DEMONS 

** Chloe: **WITH HIGH TECH GUNS THAT DON’T EXIST IN WOW 

** Max: **I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU >:( 

** Chloe: **NO EMOJI 

** Max: **YES EMOJI O_O >:( ;-; 

** Chloe: **ADSJFKADSF MAAAAX 

* * *

** Chloe: **Are you done with class 

** Max: **Just got out, what’s up 

** Chloe: **Waffles at Two Whales? 

** Max: **Chloe we literally just had breakfast there an hour ago 

** Chloe: **We had one yes 

** Chloe: **But what about second breakfast 

** Max: **Honestly you could win a hobbit eating contest 

** Chloe: **So is that a yes 

** Max: **Ugh fine but don’t expect me to keep up with you 

** Chloe: **Awesome! Omw 

* * *

** Chloe: **Do you ever think about how like 

** Chloe: **Spongebob works at a dumpy fast food place with a cheapo boss 

** Chloe: **But he can still afford this big ass house 

** Chloe: **Like he literally has a fucking library 

** Chloe: **If Bikini Bottom’s minimum wage is comparable to America’s and he doesn’t make tips then he makes like $7.25 an hour 

** Chloe: **He SHOULD be making a bunch of overtime because he shows up to work at 3 AM every day to count the sesame seeds but I think it’s safe to say Krabs probably ain’t paying overtime 

** Chloe: **Since the KK closes at 6 he’s working 15 hour days 6 days a week 

** Chloe: **Even assuming no holidays or days off that’s only like 34K a year at most, probably less 

** Chloe: **Now we know he grew his house from a seed but he couldn’t just plant that wherever he wanted, he’d need to own the lot of land he planted it in and pay to get all the utilities and crap connected to it 

** Chloe: **Combine that with all the money he throws at his expensive ass hobbies: fancy jellyfish nets, spice gardening, buying giant TVs just to play in the box, probably lots of medical bills from karate injuries 

** Chloe: **Either he’s living well outside his means and being supported by his parents (who are rich enough to just buy him a brand new fucking boat) or the cost of land in Bikini Bottom is all kinds of fucked 

** Chloe: **It could be both, since Squidward also has a two story fancy ass house with a fucking art gallery in it and he makes even less than Spongebob does 

** Chloe: **Then again his house is unsellable because of his neighbors so he might’ve just gotten it for cheap 

** Chloe: **What do you think 

** Max: **… 

** Max: **You know 

** Max: **If you’d put half as much effort into school as you do into economic analysis of children’s cartoons, you could’ve graduated at the top of your class 

** Chloe: ** Well yeah but that’s not fun 

* * *

** Max: **Hey is it cool if I stay at your place tonight 

** Max: **Dorm heating is out and it’s miserable 

** Chloe: **You have to ask?? 

** Chloe: **Bruh you could show up in my room at 2 AM and I’d happily tuck you in 

** Max: **I like to make sure! I never know what’s up with Joyce or David 

** Chloe: **Who cares, I’m coming to get your scrawny ass, I’ll keep you warm 

** Chloe: **Gonna cuddle you 

** Chloe: **Gonna cuddle you so fuckin hard 

** Max: **You sure know how to make a girl feel special 

** Max: **Can’t wait :) 

** Chloe: **You’re hopeless 

* * *

** Max: **You up? 

** Chloe: **Of course, but why are you 

** Chloe: **Not that I don’t like our late night talks 

** Chloe: **But don’t you have a test tomorrow 

** Max: **Yeah 

** Max: **That’s why I can’t sleep :/ 

** Chloe: **I’ll be lenient on your emoji usage since you’re stressed 

** Chloe: **You’ll do fine Maxatron, you’ve been studying like constantly 

** Max: **I know but what if I get in there and I forget it all 

** Max: **You were always so much better at tests than me 

** Chloe: **Not anymore, you’re the model student now 

** Chloe: **Say it with me: “I’m gonna do fine” 

** Max: **"I’m gonna do bad” 

** Chloe: **With that attitude you are 

** Chloe: **Max you’re the most capable person I know and you’ve prepared as best you can for this 

** Chloe: **You’re gonna make it 

** Chloe: **And once you do, you get three whole weeks with me 

** Chloe: **Not exactly the brightest light at the end of the tunnel but it’s something 

** Max: ** That’s the brightest light I can imagine :) 

** Chloe: **Really pushing your luck Maximus 

** Max: **Right. Okay. 

** Max: **I can do this 

** Max: **And once I do, no matter how it turns out, three whole weeks with you to myself 

** Chloe: **Damn right 

** Chloe: **I’ll come pick you up right after the test is done 

** Chloe: **Then we can go get ice cream or go home and cuddle or whatever you want 

** Max: **What did I do to deserve someone like you 

** Chloe: **Be the biggest dork ever 

** Chloe: **Dress like a hipster 

** Chloe: **Talk like a nerd 

** Chloe: **Give me lots of hugs and kisses 

** Max: **You make it sound so easy 

** Chloe: **For you to woo me? Yes 

** Chloe: **And you’ll get plenty of chances after tomorrow 

** Chloe: **But only if you get some sleep 

** Chloe: **Like right now 

** Max: **Okay okay I’ll try again 

** Max: **Thank you Chloe 

** Max: **I actually do feel a lot better 

** Chloe: **I’m glad 

** Chloe: **Now sleep 

** Max: **Okay mom 

** Max: **Good night Chloe <3 

** Chloe: **Good night Max 

* * *

** Max: **FREEDOM 

** Max: ** IT SMELLS SO SWEET 

** Chloe: **HELL YEAH 

** Chloe: **How’d it go 

** Max: **I think I passed! 

** Max: **And did decent! 

** Chloe: **AYYY THAT’S MY GIRL 

** Chloe: **What did I keep saying 

** Chloe: **Was I right 

** Chloe: **Tell me I was right 

** Max: **You were right Chloe 

** Chloe: **Screenshotting that 

** Chloe: **Putting that on my Facebook 

** Chloe: **Printing that out and hanging it over my bed 

** Max: **I hate you 

** Chloe: **Bitch you know you love me 

** Max: **God only knows how 

** Max: **But yes, I do :) 

** Chloe: **NO EMOJI 

** Chloe: **Love you too tho 

** Max: **Now hurry up and come get me! You’re all mine for the next three weeks and we’re not wasting a single minute! 

** Chloe: **Yes ma’am 

** Chloe: **But am I all yours, or you all mine? 

** Chloe: **Deep questions 

** Max: **Both. Definitely both 

** Chloe: **Damn right 

** Chloe: **Wouldn’t have it any other way 


	9. Day Five: Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, life has been getting on Sun's case today, so I decided to step up and do both prompts so he can get some well deserved R&R. Hopefully my fluff can live up to my angst/Sun's fluff, and I guess we'll see.

Chloe Price numbly fell into the driver’s seat of her beat-up truck.   


She, along with her best friend, has witnessed her entire town get leveled by a tornado just mere moments ago. Since the cliff, the two have barely spoken, after spending their due time watching the chaos and destruction unfold with their hands joined together. The trek down to the truck had been a long one, but here they are now, without an idea about what to do.   


In the time she spends staring ahead of them, the typhoon of winds blowing debris over the trees to their left, Chloe barely notices the tension she places around the steering wheel, as her knuckles turn white bit by bit. The only thing she does notice, instead, is Max’s ghostly touch on her forearm. They’re both soaking wet but even under all the rain, Chloe can tell the rings around Max’s eyes are from crying this entire time.   


Something in her eyes asks a question that doesn’t need words; a question that Max can’t really place on the tip of her tongue, but even then, Chloe doesn’t need to hear it. She sighs, deeply, and lets her shoulders rise and fall once.   


“Get out of these waterlogged clothes, maybe,” she suggests, tone dark and down. The two of them share a look of hesitance before Max turns to peel her poor hoodie off of her, while Chloe ducks to retrieve a cardboard box from underneath the truck’s bench. The box itself holds Chloe’s emergency kit, for the many nights she had to sleep outside, the one box that’s stashing some snacks, a blanket, a change of clothes and a joint or two.   


She leaves Max a pullover on the dash as Chloe takes the blanket out, ready to peel herself out of her jacket. The most they can change for now is their tops, Chloe figuring it's better than nothing. The two bundle up for the night, the tempest of Rachel’s rage still tearing apart Arcadia Bay at the foundation. That night, Chloe doesn’t sleep much, her drenched beanie dragged a little down her forehead as she stares at the top of the cabin and pretends that she doesn’t hear Max’s sobs on her chest.   


In that time, Chloe thinks of the future. Whether they’d find her mom alive or not, and whether there will even be an Arcadia Bay once this thing blows over. Whether Max will still be around, or whether the two of them will even be okay, because experiencing something like this no doubt fucks with you. Chloe hasn’t cried yet, but she has no doubts that she will, eventually. It might just be the want to stay strong for Max keeping her in place, or it might just be the shock of losing practically everything apart from the clothes on your back and the love in your hand.   


She can’t decide, as the outside scene gets grizzlier and grizzlier. At one point, Max’s sobs subside, and so does Chloe’s will to think. Instead, she counts sheep, and tries to find sleep where there isn’t any.   


The morning after isn’t any better. Max almost outright starts crying as Chloe carefully maneuvers towards the exit towards Seattle, or a motel, or something. Much to Chloe’s sorrow, the entire trip through the remnants of the Bay turns Max catatonic. The silence in the cab is left pregnant with sadness and a threat of more tears. Something in Chloe tears at her heart to beg Max to fix all of this, to undo the damage she’s caused simply by living. But, nothing can be done; the ripped remains of the last salvation of Arcadia Bay flew off almost at the same time the town did, and there’s nothing to do that reverses that.   


All that’s left, Chloe figures, as emergency services fly by past them, is to live, to go into the future with the weight of a small town on your shoulders, and see how long you last. 


	10. Day Five: First Time

Watching Chloe soar through the air like a bird in flight was one of Max’s favorite sights.   


Perched atop the half-pipe, Max could barely keep her film in check. Parts of her wanted to spend it all on Chloe, because she’s just worth the cost of it all, but parts of her have actual  _ restraint.  _ And as alluring using all of her film on Chloe  _ would _ be, her allowance for film for the month is spent up, and there’s still about ten days left of October.   


So, bummer.   


Max snaps a few extra of Chloe and of Rachel both, just to get some for the road, so to say, and places her camera at her side to enjoy the time she can spend with her two (girl)friends, just relaxing. There, she lets the worries of a week in Blackwell wash away in the sunsetting light as Max lays down on the top of the half-pipe fully. No one besides Chloe is using this pipe right now, anyways, so there’s no boards-to-the-face to be expected for now.   


Blackwell had been hell on earth these days. With exams in full swing, Max could barely find the time for either of the two girls in her life, let alone any of her other friends. Rachel, on the other hand, still managed to do everything  _ perfectly, perfectly  _ on time, while looking, you guessed it,  _ perfect _ . Sometimes, Max thinks its bullshit, but after waking up in her bed one night and seeing exactly the preparation required to be that exemplary, Max figured being average has its perks.   


Chloe had been overjoyed, to say the least, when the weekend rolled around, seeing as Max being busy with Blackwell and Rachel tired from being perfect during such a stressful week had left her with much to desire. Max knows from her own experience how much not having either of them around sucked. If anything, though, Chloe had gotten herself busy; a job at a mechanic’s shop combined with an online GED kept her hands full.   


The clouds passing overhead, while calming, are probably the dullest they could be this time of year. Small, few and far apart, really nothing to gaze at, or much to make shapes out of. Max sighs and lays there, letting her brain catch up to the present time and date, as she just thinks…   


And happens to think of a  _ great _ idea.   


“Hey Chloe, Rach,” Max calls out from her perch as she sits up. She manages to get the attention of both girls, Rachel replying with a “Yeah?” from the tip of the bowl, while Chloe turns to her after sticking a landing on a trick down a flight of steps.   


“Do you guys think you could teach me how to skate?”   


The reaction she receives is priceless: Chloe keeps on skating, a bewildered look across her face, but she manages to stop right before she rolls into the bowl below, while Rachel stares with confusion hidden away well behind a smirk.   


“Sure!” they both call back, running towards her wildly, and that gets a good, long chuckle out of Max, as the day opens up. 


	11. Day Six: Canon Divergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((ignore the fact that this is a day late shhhhhh))

The near hellish confines of Mark Jefferson’s classroom finally let Max loose into the sea Blackwell students there.

As she sighs, placing her back against the wall near the classroom’s exit, the not-so-secretive discussion on the topic of Max’s clothing comes up on the edges of her hearing, no doubt coming directly from Victoria and her pack of cronies. Without giving them as much as a stink-eye, figuring they’re not worth her time, she chooses instead to drift off into her own head with the help of music, go to the bathroom and wash up a little, especially after a dream as crazy as the one she had.

Max waits for the music to kick in before joining the sea of students moving towards the exit. She passes friends and classmates, people like Brooke and Warren, the nerdier of her friends, Dana and Juliet, the _ prettier _ of her friends and passes Daniel, feeling particularly guilty about not being able to help him, considering her… miniature stature compared to the jocks. She feels terrible all the same.

The posters around her and the cork-boards lining the main hall of Blackwell are all plastered with flyers for a party. End of the World Party as the geniuses over at the Vortex Club are calling it. Max figures that if she could care less, she might have gone. Provided it wasn’t being ran by the Vortex Party.

Sighing, Max opens the door to the bathroom, walking in to find it thankfully empty and it gives her peace, knowing that no one is there to see her meltdown. Pondering the _ interesting _ events of today, Max stares at herself in the mirror, the one that doesn’t have a crown and a moustache drawn on it, and for a second, her mind snaps back to her pitiful entry for the Everyday Heroes contest.

Her mind snaps to it for a second because soon, there’s a spark of something just on the cusp of her vision: a blue butterfly.

Shimmering in the light, it carefully flies into the bathroom, through the small but wide open window, and goes to settle somewhere behind the last stall furthest from Max. Figuring she won’t get another shot like this, Max moves quickly to it, eager to snap a picture with her polaroid camera. And she does.

But when her eyes fall onto the polaroid for the first time, her head starts to hurt. Badly. The pressure applied is sudden, so much so that it knocks her over. From a crouched position, Max falls behind her, her back coming to lean against the stall as she tries to get her bearings straight; the world around her is spinning, she can barely think straight and there’s something at her nose pooling, something warm.

Then, everything goes bright. There’s suddenly completely different in her head, now, and it's her.

It's been a hot minute since she’s jumped timelines and it almost gives her a dash of nostalgia, if it didn’t make her sick to her stomach. Max crouches, letting her balance come back to her all over again as her palm comes back covered in blood when she coughs. The back of this bathroom is gonna look like a murder if she keeps this up. She isn’t aware if she has any time spare, but her question is answered when the door opens and shuts quickly, followed immediately with stall doors opening and closing roughly, after which comes rambling.

Nathan Prescott.

She uses her clean hand to dig something out and finds something she could call a tissue to help her not look like a crime scene. By the time she’s done, Chloe’s entered the fray. When she does, Max– new Max– takes her sweet time. She misses Chloe’s voice before it was wracked with the wrong doings of destiny, but there’s no time to dawdle.

Just as Nathan Prescott pins Chloe Price up against a wall with a gun to her abdomen, Max ducks her hand under the cleaning cart to retrieve her weapon of choice. She moves swiftly and silently, disposing of her blood in the stall right before, and moves. She gets behind Nathan, and just before everything culminates, she wacks him over the head with the fire alarm hammer. In the split second of adrenaline the hit gives her, she contemplates not stopping at one smack, but it seems to do the trick, as Nathan slumps over, knocked out. His gun clatters to the ground.

“Ho-holy shit! What the fuck?!”

The blue haired girl apparently can’t decide what to be shocked about: Nathan Prescott keeling over after threatening to kill her, the sudden appearance of a friend she hadn’t seen in the last five years, or the fact that that same friend just clobbered someone over the head, and she just chooses to do all three.

“Max?! Nath- what the fuck?! How the fuck, where, what–”

Max disposes of the evidence, much like last time, and just kicks the gun away from them and moves Nathan from the entrance, to set him up sprawled on the floor as if he had passed out. From what she can see, without paying any specific attention, the smack she just gave Nathan didn’t leave any visible injuries, as Chloe continues to freak the fuck out in the background. Afterwards, Max moves to calm Chloe down and leave the school together.

“Just– trust me, okay?” Max asks Chloe, as she hurries her to the parking lot, “I’ll explain on the way, just not here.”

She hesitates at the top of the steps to Blackwell’s parking lot as Chloe moves to her wrongly-parked truck, hoping that the forty second time’s the charm. 


	12. Day Six: Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one, but yesterday was hectic! Anyway, here's a shorty but a goody, filled with Pricefield sweetness!

Chloe’s lazing about on Max’s bed waiting for her to finish with homework – good lord how much homework did they give that girl? - when she idly takes notice of the acoustic guitar leaning against Max’s couch.

“Hey,” Chloe says as she stands from the bed to pick up the guitar. “How come I’ve never gotten to hear you play this?”

Max looked up from her book and pursed her lips. “Well, um... I don’t really know how to properly play it? I just  kinda strum random chords that sound good.”

“Oh, so you make up your own songs?” Chloe smirked. “Have you written one about me?”

“I don’t write my own songs,  you dork,” Max said, rolling her eyes. “That’s a bit beyond my skillset.”

“ Oh come on, it can’t be that hard. Here, I’ll make a song for you right now.”

Max raised an eyebrow as Chloe sat on the couch with the guitar in her arms. She absentmindedly started plucking random strings with no real rhythm or tune, staring at the ceiling as she tried to think of words.

_ “Max, oh my Max,”  _ she sang in an upbeat, intentionally off-key voice.  _ " _ _ Oh _ _ why can’t she just relax? She’s a hipster,  _ _ them’s _ _ the facts. She’d probably send you a fax.  _ _ On her patience, I’m a tax _ _ , but we’ve got each other’s backs. She stops my heart right in its tracks. To prep for her, I’ll need some wax!”  _

Chloe gave Max a wink on the last line. Just as planned, Max blushed furiously and scowled at her. “Th-That was lovely,” she grumbled sarcastically. “But you’ve got it easy! Nothing rhymes with Chloe.”

“Yeah, but a lot of stuff rhymes with Price,” Chloe retorted, holding the guitar out for Max. “Come on, give it a try.”

Max rolled her eyes yet again – she did that a lot with Chloe around – but accepted the instrument. She started strumming, her notes sounding much more composed than Chloe’s had been. She didn’t take much time to think, glaring right into Chloe’s eyes as she started singing. 

_ “Price, oh Chloe Price,”  _ she sang in the most adorably irritated way.  _ "She really isn’t very nice. In  _ _ fact _ _ to be precise, today she’s been on my nerves twice. With all the dumb jokes she’ll entice, I’d get more done with a pack of mice!” _

Chloe laughed. Of all the ways Max had expressed irritation with her before, this had to be one of the cutest. Max chuckled along too, her expression softening. She continued strumming her simple tune, and continued.

_ “But it’s worth the sacrifice, cause being with her is paradise. She’s my most addicting vice, my luckiest roll of the dice. My life’s bland like plain old rice, and into that she’s welcome spice. And right  _ _ now _ _ I need her advice: you’re smoking hot, how do I get a slice?” _

Chloe laughed again, but now it was her turn to be blushing like crazy. Hearing Max sing those things about her, even if it was a rather disjointed tune, did things to her that she could never freely admit without being forced to give up her punk card. She tried to play it cool.

“Y-You can, um... have however many slices you want,” she mumbled, cursing how flustered Max’s smirk made her. 

Max laughed and set down the guitar, getting out of her chair to sit next to Chloe. “I meant what I said. You’re a constant pain in my ass... But you really are the best thing that’s happened to me.”

Chloe snorted to cover the soft squeal she really wanted to make as she shuffled closer to Max. “First you serenade me, now you’re buttering me up? Is this your way of trying to make me want to kiss you, Caulfield?”

“I don’t know,” Max said, her smile and eyes soft as she looked at Chloe. “Is it working?”

That look murdered Chloe. She’d gone into cardiac arrest and died. This must be heaven.

“You don’t have to try to get me to kiss you,” Chloe whispered, smiling broadly. “But it certainly helps.”

It was very  very far from the first time their lips had touched. And yet, as with every time, Chloe’s heart swelled, singing along to beautiful music only she could hear.


	13. Day Seven: Only and One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last bit of angst, with some delay. A depressive episode combined with binging Destiny 2 absolutely killed any sort of productivity I had, effectively stalling not only my daily writing streak :sad: but also making it un-fun for me, but now, after figuring it out beforehand, I managed to churn this out with only a few days worth of delay! Yay! At least its here. 
> 
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading along.

Shaking hands pull the spare twenties and tens from a soaked-through wallet, the bills somehow intact that next night.   


Chloe can’t tell if the clerk okays the bills because they’re just that– okay– or if Chloe’s ragged appearance and shaking hands combined with the drenched hair sticking to her forehead that earns her a pity pass, the clerk no doubt figuring it might just someone escaping for a night after a rather bad trip.   


It might just be Arcadia Bay’s storm on the news on the TV in the corner, the one Chloe desperately tries not to look at as she makes her way out.   


The two of them spent the day sleeping in Chloe’s truck, Max crying when she was awake and sobbing in her dreams when she wasn’t. Chloe spent all that time trying to hold her, to keep her calm, to no avail. Chloe was lucky that the ambulances and emergency services passed while Max was asleep. It was hard to keep someone calm when you yourself are tearing apart on the inside, she figures, sighing as she taps twice on the truck’s window on Max’s side.   


They shamble towards the second story room as the sun sets behind the two of them. Chloe wonders where today has gone for a split second before figuring that she doesn’t want to recall anything. She helps a soundless, drained Max onto the one bed.   


“Sorry, Max,” Chloe starts, “could only, uh… afford one bed.” A shrug is all she gets in response, the lift of Max’s shoulders barely there. “Do you… wanna go first?” Chloe asks, gesturing with her head towards the open bathroom door, dimly lit by the light streaming from the window slats. Chloe helps Max stand up, standing by her as she shambles over into the bathroom, the door creaking shut.   


Moving back to the spot where Max had sat a moment ago, Chloe reaches for the remote and prays to whatever she thinks of that the reports on Arcadia Bay is not the first thing she sees, but to no avail. It's the first thing she sees.

And the second, and the third. A little of the audio slips through before she thinks to mute the TV. In exasperation, she throws the remote in front of her, letting her elbows rest on her knees as her head falls into her hands. She tries not to think back to everything she had seen in the corners of her eyes on their way out of the Bay, but it's getting harder by the second. Her snapping point was hearing Max’s sobs from the bathroom.   


At first, her ear twitches at the first notion of it. Chloe moves– limps over, more like– towards the bathroom. She falls somewhere along the way, onto her knees in front of the bathroom, dragging her legs until she’s flush with the bathroom door. Chloe places her hands on the door as the sobbing gets louder and her cheeks feel wet, only realizing she’s crying too once she feels the tears run with her finger.   


She sits with her back turned to the door, one hand placed on it and her head angled towards it.   


“Max,” she calls, her breath hitching along the way, “I’m here for you. I’ll always,  _ always _ be here for you. Forever. I swear to you.”   


Chloe doesn’t try to open the door for the longest time, opting instead to let her grief flow free. 


	14. Day Seven: Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the extreme delay with this last prompt. Life has been a roller coaster, and to be completely honest I just kept forgetting about it during the times I did get for writing. Even now I find myself strapped for time. This isn't what I originally had in mind for this, but it still fulfills my fluff quota for this!
> 
> In the interest of trying different styles with each prompt of this (and admittedly in the interest of being able to finish this in the timeframe available to me) I decided to fill this last prompt with a drabble. For those of you who don't know, a drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words. It can be surprisingly difficult, getting an entire story across with so little! Give it a try sometime, it's really fun!
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for your patience with this last prompt! Check out my other (more timely updated) works for more Pricefield sweetness!

Max had seen this exact dream many times before.  
  
Well, not exactly like this. Sometimes Chloe wore a different tie. Sometimes their parents were on different sides of the aisle. Sometimes their attendants were mixed up.  
  
One thing was constant: Max crying a lot.  
  
"Come on, Max. It can't be that bad, right?" Chloe whispered beneath the sermon. She talked tough, but she was crying too.  
  
Max smiled. "The best... I never want to wake up..."  
  
Chloe pinched Max's arm. "Not a dream, Maxie."  
  
"...may kiss your bride."  
  
Their lips met.  
  
Her life was so much better than her dreams.


End file.
